world; I don't like it," he repeated, fixing his timid, haggard eyes on his brother's face. "And yet it would seem good to go from these abominations, these entanglements, from this unnatural state of things, from myself; but I am afraid of death, horribly afraid of death!" He shuddered. "There! drink something! Would you like some champagne? or would you rather go out somewhere? Let's go and see the gipsies. You know I am very fond of gipsies and Russian songs."
His speech had begun to grow thick, and he hurried from one subject to another. Konstantin, with Masha's aid, persuaded him to stay at home; and they put him on his bed completely drunk.
Masha promised to write Konstantin in case of need, and to persuade Nikolaï Levin to come and live with his brother.
CHAPTER XXVI
The next forenoon Levin left Moscow, and toward evening was at home. On the journey he talked with those near him in the train about politics, about the new railroads; and, just as in Moscow, he was overcome by the chaos of conflicting opinions, self-dissatisfaction, and a sense of shame. But when he got out at his station, and perceived his one-eyed coachman, Ignat, with his kaftan collar turned up; when he saw, in the dim light that fell through the station windows, his covered sledge and his horses with their tied-up tails, and their harness with its rings and fringes; when Ignat, as he was tucking in the robes, told him all the news of the village, about the coming of the contractor, and how Pava the cow had calved,—then it seemed to him that the chaos resolved itself a little, and his shame and dissatisfaction passed away. This he felt at the very sight of Ignat and his horses; but, as soon as he had put on his sheepskin tulup, which he found in the sleigh, and took his seat in the sleigh comfortably wrapped up, and drove off thinking what arrangement he should have to make
